


Mutually Assured

by SilverWing15



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Culture, Alternate Universe - Canon, Blindness, Bonding, Camping, Enemies to Friends, Galra Culture, Gen, Good Lotor, How Do I Tag, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I don't really write romace, I just want my children to get along, I'm having a conversation over here, Lotor isn't entirely a jerk, M/M, Nice Lotor, Ocular trauma, Self-Indulgent, Sort Of, Temporary blindess, Vulnerability, alright, but its close, but this plays jump rope with that line, is that so much to ask?, its like 2 am, nothing happens to his eyes, okay well, technically its not, temporary disability, the others show up but only at the end, there, they just don't work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-03-26 07:12:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13852689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverWing15/pseuds/SilverWing15
Summary: Now listen,” Lotor says, “If we're going to survive, we need each other. I don't expect trust between us, but we can have the next best thing.”“And what's that?” Lance asks.“Mutually assured destruction.”COMPLETE





	1. Day One

**Author's Note:**

> Author's note: This is sheer, unapologetic self indulgence. I am a simple woman of simple desires and I just want my space sons to get along.  
> I've taken a few liberties with the Galra I figure a lot of their culture is a lot like the Romans, what with the conquering ,and the gladiator pits. So most of the things Lotor talks about are borrowed from Rome.  
> That being said, Lotor is a potty mouth when he's not restricted by Dreamworks and because the internet is a wonderful place, there are multiple websites devoted to naughty words in Latin, I'm using this one: https://blogs.transparent.com/latin/latin-profanity-how-to-swear-in-latin/  
> On another note, I'm fairly certain that you can go temporarily blind from hitting your head? I'm bad about researching medical stuff, but I read The Cay in fourth grade and it happened there so I'm going with it. If I can't trust children's literature, what can I trust?  
> Hope you all enjoy!

**DAY ONE**

Pain flares in his shoulder, biting and sharp and Lance can't contain the gasp that descends into a groan. A voice mutters something, a curse, he thinks from the way its said. He knows that voice, his brow furrows as he tries to place it.

“Lie still, Paladin.” The voice says and Lance feels his heart skip about fifteen beats, because yes, actually, he does know that voice.

“Lotor.” His voice sounds like he's been thrown through a rusty meat grinder. He _feels_ like he's been thrown through a rusty meat grinder. There's a sharp, persistent ache that starts in his shoulder and spreads out through the rest of his body with every beat of his heart.

That's not what's important though, he tells himself and grits his teeth. The important thing is that Lotor is close enough for Lance to hear the muttered curses he's saying under his breath. With a titanic effort, Lance braces himself against the pain and forces himself to move.

His right hand rises instinctively to cradle his left shoulder, where the pain is coming from. He has a brief moment to register warm slick blood and a lump of bone where there shouldn't be one before Lotor catches his wrist.

“Stop it.” Lance growls. His throat hurts too, but whatever Lotor has planned will hurt more, he tells himself. The more he moves, the more he pays attention to reality, the more the pain seeps into him the icy water his mom had tossed on him when he wouldn't get up for school. He would give anything to be back in bed, warm and safe on earth, a hundred trillion miles away from everything going on right now.

His legs shift weakly instead of kicking the way he wants them to. Its so dark, he can't see so much as a speck of light. He tries to twist away from where he thinks Lotor is, but a heavy arm plants itself across his chest, just below his collar bone.

“Lie still!” Lotor snaps and the part of Lance that is apparently still living in the garrison immediately freezes. They are both quiet and still for a long second, waiting for someone to make a move, then Lotor lets up on the pressure on his chest. “Now then, if I had wanted you dead, I would simply have left you where I found you, paladin.”

“I hope you don't think that's comforting.” Lance says, and he tries to sit up again, but Lotor pushes him back to the ground easily.

Lotor sighs and mutters another unfamiliar curse. “Are all of you humans so very stubborn?” He asks, more to himself than to Lance.

Lance tries to pry Lotor's arm off his chest with his right hand. When he tries to move his left arm the pain explodes and for a moment he thinks he's going to pass out.

“Stop moving!” Lotor growls, and this time he puts a lot more weight behind the arm pinning Lance down. Lance gasps, trying to get air and surprisingly, Lotor pulls back

“Where are we?” Lance demands.

There is a long pause, then Lotor says: “In some sort of cave, I believe. We fell here when the ground collapsed.”

_Collapsed?_ Then he remembers, going on another razzle dazzle circuit, finding Lotor by accident, getting caught in the crossfire when Galra forces had found Lotor too. There had been a battle, he'd gotten separated from the others, caught out away from his lion, and then the ground had rumbled. Then nothing.

“Now listen,” Lotor says, Lance can feel his breath against his face and he tries to turn his head away instinctively. Lotor grabs the top of his head and forces him to face forward, not that it does much good because it is still so dark. “I'm only going to explain this once, so. Pay. Attention.” He emphasizes these last words with tugs on Lance's hair.

“If we're going to survive, we need each other. I don't expect trust between us, but we can have the next best thing.”

“And what's that?” Lance asks.

“Mutually assured destruction.” Lotor says simply. “You're injured, you won't survive this planet alone long enough for Voltron to find you, and I will not survive Voltron without you vouching for me.”

“What makes you think that I won't turn on you the minute I'm back with my team?” Lance asks, like an idiot, because Lotor is right, if his arm is as messed up as he thinks it is, he won't survive long without help.

“Nobility is another of your species' annoying traits.” Lotor grumbles, “if the Champion is any indication.”

Lance snorts, but he doesn't say anything. He just needs to live long enough for the others to find him. “Fine. Deal or whatever. Is there a light?”

He sits up as much as Lotor will let him and peers around in the dark, for a moment he almost thinks that he has his eyes still closed, but he can feel himself blinking. Lotor doesn't answer.

“Lotor?” Lance asks, his voice is more hesitant that it should be, he needs to be a Paladin of Voltron, not the scared boy he feels like.

“...You cannot see?” Lotor asks quietly.

“No?” Lance says, and he feels panic rising up in his chest, “what, do Galra have some super special night vision that makes it look like daylight in here?” He laughs weakly, desperately.

“We do,” Lotor says, “But I have a light right here, I was looking at your wound.” There is the sound of something scraping lightly over stone as Lotor presumably picks up the light. His breath is on Lance's face again, but he _can't see_.

His fingers scrabble uselessly at Lotor's arm and his body jerks spasmodically. He needs to get up, he needs to get away and find the light. He has to get out of this cave, that's all, he just needs to get back to the surface, back to sunlight and his lion and the others. The pain in his left shoulder is burning through him but he ignores it, Lotor is trying to say something, Lance ignores him too. He's trying to trick him, he'll find some way to survive on his own, he just needs to see the _sun_.

“faex” Lotor says and swings a leg over Lance's waist, pinning him down. “Paladin, Paladin stop this nonsense, you will only injure yourself more. Let me take a look and perhaps I can find what is wrong.”

Lance doesn't really believe him, but he's exhausted and Lotor's arm is cutting off his air again. He opens his eyes as wide as they will go like that will help, but there is still only darkness. A whimper wants to rise up in his throat. He's a pilot, he's _the_ _marksman_ he needs his _eyes_. He's useless without them. He can't be a bigger burden on the team, he needs to see. The universe can't do this to him, not when he's done so much for it. Doesn't it owe him at least this one thing?

Lotor let's up on his chest again and Lance takes a deep gasping breath. He takes another. Another. There isn't enough air. He's going to suffocate, blind and helpless with only his enemy for company.

“Paladin cease this foolishness.” Lotor demands, but there might be a note of fear in his voice. “You are not suffocating, there is plenty of air here.”

There isn't enough air on the whole planet. Lance gasps again, his head is swimming and if he could _see_ he would bet that there would be blackness creeping in at the edges of his vision.

Fingers pinch his nose and the palm holds his jaw closed. Now he _really_ can't breathe, he was right, Lotor is trying to kill him. Lance tries to thrash, but Lotor is pinning him again.

“Stop panicking.” Lotor orders. “I'm going to let you breathe, do it _slowly_.”

Then, miraculously, his hand moves and Lance can breathe again. He sucks in the largest breath he can manage and tries to buck Lotor off of his legs. Lotor covers his mouth again.

“What part of slowly are you having difficulty with?” He snarls. “Stop thrashing about like a newborn cub and let me help you.” His hand doesn't move, Lance still can't breathe. A pleading whine rises in his throat despite his best efforts to keep it down. “Relax.” Lotor says, his voice is calmer now, gentler. “I will move my hand when you stop fighting. You cannot attract attention to us.”

Lance grits his teeth and makes his muscles go slack. He closes his eyes, for all the difference it makes. Slowly, carefully, Lotor lets up on his airway until Lance can pull in a deep breath and let it out.

Lotor sighs. “There, was that truly so difficult?” But his voice isn't harsh enough for the words. “As I was saying, let me take a look and perhaps I will see what the problem is, and then I need to get back to your shoulder.”

Lance nods, but he can't make himself do anything more. He's exhausted now, between the pain and the panic and the looming despair. He wants to go to sleep and wake up in the castle. No, he wants to wake up back home, with his sisters fighting over who got the bathroom first, and his mother calling breakfast.

Lotor's fingers open his eye and Lance can feel his breath on his face again he jerks instinctively and Lotor hums a warning note. “Do not start that again.”

Its almost surreal, to feel Lotor hold his eye open but see nothing. Lotor looks in his right eye, then his left, then his right again, then tells Lance to open both of them. He doesn't say anything.

“Well?” Lance snaps.

He feels Lotor's muscles tense, offended, but Lotor's voice is calm when he says, “I don't see anything wrong with you eyes, but you hit your head when you fell, perhaps that has something to do with it. Such injuries are not unknown, it may be that your vision will return when your brain heals.”

Or he could be blind forever. Trapped in the dark, helpless, _useless_.

Lotor taps his cheek firmly, if it were any harder, Lance would be tempted to call it a slap. “Don't. I still need to look at your shoulder and make sure you haven't made that worse with all this nonsense.”

Lance can hear him shifting in the dark, and then his hands are at his shoulder. Lance jerks and then gasps at the fresh wave of pain. “Steady.” Lotor intones, and his hand rests lightly on Lance's chest, ready to restrain him again.

Lance swallows and breathes deeply. “Do you think you could...talk?” He says. Its stupid, what is Lotor going to talk about? They're enemies, trapped and only working together to survive, this isn't a tea party, they're not bros. Lotor seems to be thinking the same thing because he's quiet and his hands aren't moving on Lance's arm. Just when he's opened his mouth to apologize and say forget it, Lotor begins.

“There is a legend, from Dibazaal, about the founding of the Galra empire.” His voice starts out hesitant, but grows more confident as he tells the story of the twin brothers, Galus and Gaelus each conquering their own kingdom. “Eventually, the two brothers had conquered all of the warring tribes and the only enemy left to fight was each other.” Lotor's hands shift of Lance's arm, gripping around the bicep in a way that makes his shoulder twinge. “And so their armies met on the field of battle and Galus struck his brother down.” He clamps a hand over Lance's mouth again and jerks sharply on his arm.

Lance screams as pain explodes through his body, making him arch against the ground, trying to twist away from Lotor, who has apparently finished story time and started murder time. His boots slide over the ground uselessly his free hand claws at Lotor's arm, but his gloves just slide off of the armor.

It takes a minute, but eventually he realizes that Lotor isn't doing anything more than keeping him from screaming. Breathing hard, Lance makes himself calm down enough to gather his thoughts. He'd suspected that his shoulder was dislocated, and according to movies it was best to put it back in place without warning. He glares in the direction he thinks Lotor is.

“Wht t fkk” He growls through Lotor's palm.

“I couldn't risk you screaming.” Lotor says calmly. “There might still be Galra soldiers out looking for us.” He moves his hand though.

“Great story.” Lance rasps, “Terrible ending.”

Lotor chuckles, “my apologies” His hands are still on Lance's shoulder though, pressing gently but firmly on the skin. “The good news is that I won't have to tell it again, it seems your shoulder is seated properly at least.”

“Great.” Lance says.

“You should rest.” Lotor says, “I do not think we should stay here for much longer. I will scout ahead.”

Fear grips his heart and Lance wants to make Lotor stay, he doesn't want to be here alone, in a strange place, possibly hunted by Galra. Not while he's still helpless. But that's ridiculous, he is a paladin of Voltron, and Lotor is the son of Emperor Zarkon. They're enemies, they just need each other for now. This isn't a truce, at best its a temporary cease fire.

“I will be back soon.” Lotor says as though he's read Lance's mind, and then his footsteps are retreating somewhere off to Lance's right. To distract himself, he feels along his left shoulder, there's a deep cut just below the joint, but Lotor was right, it doesn't feel dislocated anymore.

“There's that at least.” Lance mutters to himself. He hesitates for a moment, then waves his hand in front of his face. He can feel the air moving over his nose and cheeks, but he can't see his hand. He swallows hard and lays his head back on the hard rock.

Maybe Lotor is right and his vision will return.

Maybe it won't.

Lance squeezes his eyes shut and forces himself to think about how tired he is. He can feel sleep rising up around him, tugging him down. Something shifts or cracks and suddenly he's awake and on full alert. He wishes he had his bayard, he wishes he could _see_ so that he could aim his bayard.

“Lotor?” He calls softly. The air is still, there are no more sounds. His eyes are wide open like that's going to help. Maybe he was just hearing things, if it was a Galra patrol, they would have attacked by now.

Slowly, Lance lays back down and tries to fall asleep. He thinks he dozes for a while, but he wakes at every noise, real or imagined. He might dream, but they're vague, half formed things that he forgets as soon as he shoot back to awareness.

The sound is real the next time he wakes up, boots moving swiftly over stone. Lance pulls himself into a crouch, hands curling into fists. “Who's there?”

“Quiet!” Lotor hisses. “We have to move, now.” His hand wraps around Lance's wrist so suddenly that Lance can't keep from flinching.

“What's going on?” He whispers.

“Galra.” Lotor replies shortly. “They will be upon us before dawn.”

“Its night time?” Lance says like an idiot. That was not the important part of the sentence.

“Could we just go?” Lotor growls and tugs at Lance's wrist until he's standing.

Laying down in a cave surrounded by enemy forces while you're blind is scary. Walking around in a cave surrounded by enemy forces while you're blind is absolutely terrifying.

He tries to go slowly, his free hand probing the air before him, but that doesn't do much when his feet catch in every dip and hole in the cave floor. He crunches over gravel and sends at least three rocks skidding loudly through the darkness.

“Are you trying to get us captured?” Lotor asks.

“I can't _see_ ” Lance hisses back.

Lotor pauses and Lance can almost imagine the considering look on his face. Lance tenses, will Lotor risk Voltron on his own and leave Lance here to be caught? Or will he try to pay his way through the Galra with a Paladin.

“I will have to carry you.” Lotor says.

“What?”

“If we want to get out of here, we need to move quickly and _quietly_.” Lotor tugs Lance closer and Lance resists the urge to dig his heels in. He knows Lotor is right, that he's going to get them caught like this, but the thought of being _carried_ prickles at his pride.

Lotor doesn't give him any time to protest, the ground falls away from his feet and Lance instinctively reaches out for something, anything to grab onto. Vertigo swirls through his mind and turns his stomach. He swallows hard and tries to find something to steady himself.

The sensation doesn't last long, Lotor's shoulder armor digs into his chest and stomach, grounding him again. He can feel Lotor's hand holding his calves, keeping him from sliding off. For a second, he thinks this might work, then Lotor moves and he knows its a terrible idea.

With his head dangling upside down over Lotor's shoulder, the bouncing makes the world tip and spin like the worst kind of roller coaster. Lance feels the vertigo and nausea welling back up and the pressure of Lotor's shoulder in his stomach isn't helping. He tries to lay his palms on Lotor's back and push himself up but Lotor growls, “Stay down, do you want them to see us?”

“Do you want me to throw up?” Lance snaps back. “This isn't going to work, my head is spinning.”

Lotor groans, but he comes to a stop and Lance feels himself being pulled down from his shoulder. He isn't returned to the ground, instead Lotor _cradles_ him to his chest. “What the hell?” Lance hisses.

“Shut up.” Lotor snaps.

Despite how utterly humiliating it is to be carried like a sleepy child, it does work better than dangling over Lotor's shoulder. He bounces less here and he can feel the solid wall of Lotor's chest against his right side. They move in starts and stops, pelting from one cover to the next. At one point, Lance can hear footsteps in the distance and the whirr of sentries moving.

He keeps moving his head like he's trying to look around, even though he knows it won't do any good. He can smell wet earth and something that might be plants, its hard to tell with alien worlds. He can hear the chirping of insects, or possibly birds all around them and he reaches a hand out into the darkness and his fingers touch something wet and smooth.

“Is this a forest?” He asks after they have moved away from the sounds of the sentries.

“Yes.” Lotor replies. “We will make camp soon and I will see if any of it is edible.”

“I could-” Lance starts to say, but he stops himself, what could he possibly do? He had to be carried out of the cave, he can't wander around in the middle of a forest with roots and plants to trip him up. Not to mention who knows what kind of predators to take one look at his dumb ass stumbling around bumping into everything and decide ' _yeah, that looks too stupid to live'_.

He misses Red, he misses Blue. Not just because they would mean safety and supplies, he misses the quiet presence of someone older and larger than himself in the back of his mind. Lending him their stability, their knowledge, letting him hide his insecurities in the confidence that comes from living thousands of years.

Lotor comes to a stop, and Lance almost thinks that they're setting up camp, but there is a tension in Lotor's muscles.

“What's going on?” Lance asks in a whisper in case there's Galra nearby.

“We have reached a ravine.” Lotor replies, he is speaking at normal volume. No Galra then. “There looks to be fresh water at the bottom, but I see no easy path down. We may have to climb.”

_Fuck._

“There's no way I can climb like this.” Lance says.

“Do you think you could cling to my back?” Lotor says like he hates even suggesting it.

Lance shifts his left shoulder, a dull flare of pain follow the motion, but dies down quickly. “Yeah, I think so.”

Lotor lowers his feet to the ground and Lance runs his hands through the air around them. He doesn't think that Lotor would set him down right on the edge of the ravine, but his instincts scream that if he takes a step in any direction he'll fall off the edge. His fingers brush against Lotor's arm and curl themselves around it automatically.

Lance tells himself that he isn't clinging to him, he's just making sure that if he does fall off the cliff, Lotor will come with him. Mutually assured destruction.

Lotor pries his fingers off his arm and Lance has to bite his tongue to keep from making a sound. A second later, he can feel the edge of Lotor's shoulder under his fingers. He feels along with his right hand until he finds the other shoulder and then grits his teeth and hooks his left arm over Lotor's chest.

A low groan escapes him as the pain boils up, but it dims to a low simmer once he stops moving.

“You are in pain.” Lotor says.

“Life is pain, highness.” Lance quotes. “Anyone who says otherwise is selling something.”

“A wise proverb.” Lotor says after a moment of consideration.

Lance snorts. “Its from an old movie.”

“Movie?”

“A story, sort of like a play, except recorded and played for people on a screen. The quote is from The Princess Bride. It was my sister's favorite movie. We used to watch it every weekend before she went to college.” He hooks his right arm around Lotor and tangles his fingers together. “Ready.”

Lotor stands and Lance wraps his legs around his waist. Lotor twists and stretches, making sure he can move properly. “I have told you a tale of my home, I believe it is your turn.” Lotor says, Lance can feel his steps as he walks to the edge. They were a good ten feet away from it, he notes.

“How far down?” Lance asks.

“Not far.” Lotor replies. “Now, I wish to hear of this 'princess bride'”

Some part of Lance recognizes that Lotor is just trying to distract him from the fact that he's about to dangle off the edge of a cliff, without any safety equipment, with only his injured arm to keep him from falling down into the endless dark. The rest of him is happy to forget about the terror and the pain and sink back into the simple story where true love wins out and everything ends happily.

He's only gotten to the part where the man in black tricks Vizzini when he feels Lotor's weight shift and he realizes that they've reached the ground. “We're down.” Lotor says a second later and crouches so Lance can get down from his back. His left shoulder is stiff and painful when he tries to move it, but Lance is so glad to be back on solid ground that he can't bring himself to care.

He can hear water trickling to his left, and the air seems cooler down here. “What time is it?” He asks, crouching down and touching his fingertips to the smooth sand of the bank.

“Almost mid day, I believe.” Lotor says, his boots crunch over to Lance and then go a few steps farther. He hears Lotor's hands plunge into the water and lift some to his mouth. Lance feels his way over until he's next to him and touches the water. Its moving, that's probably good, he thinks he remembers something about still water being more likely to have diseases. He doesn't think they can risk a fire, and even if they could, they probably don't have anything to hold the water over the flame.

He leans forward, his left shoulder is still stiff and painful, so he cups his right palm and reaches out over the water. The sand shifts beneath his weight and for a terrible moment, he imagines himself loosing his balance and falling into the water. He has no way to know how deep it is, how far he would sink, and what if there's a current deeper in? He pulls back without getting a drink.

“How deep is it?” he asks Lotor.

There's a splash, Lotor dipping his hand in? Lotor throwing a rock in? Are there even rocks around?

“Not very.” Lotor says, “You would be able to stand, I think.”

Still, Lance plants himself firmly on the bank and his left hand finds Lotor's arm again when he leans out over the water. Just in case Lotor tries to push him in. The water is cool and refreshing, and Lance can't taste anything nasty in it at least.

“It looks like we can follow the creek.” Lotor says, “Perhaps it will lead us out of this forest.”

Lance nods so he can feel like he's actually helping instead of siting there like a concussed duckling, following his enemy around cheeping in distress. “Do you think there's fish in there?” He asks. He's helping, he's got good ideas, that counts.

Lotor is silent for a moment, looking in the water?

“There aren't any here, but perhaps further downstream.”

Lance nods and pulls away from the water, even though he knows it isn't too deep, he can't get the thought of falling in out of his head. A shudder wracks its way down his spine, reigniting the pain in his shoulder.

His fingers brush against something solid and thin enough to wrap around. He feels the texture, a stick maybe? Its a bit longer than his arm, mostly straight, it feels sturdy. He'd seen blind people back on earth, could he use a cane like them?

Part of him recoils from the thought, somehow he feels like fashioning himself a cane will make this more permanent. He shakes his head to get rid of the thought. The future isn't important right now, he tells himself, right now all he has to do is make sure he doesn't get his head blasted off by Glara, and having a cane will help with that.

“Your tale,” Lotor says, suddenly right behind Lance. He jumps, his fingers tightening around the stick. “You did not finish it, we should keep moving, but I would like to hear the ending. This man in black is a cunning foe and I would like to know his goal.”

“The Princess Bride,” Lance says, and there's a smile on his face, “Beloved through all cultures.”

He walks for a while, feeling out the ground with his new stick and holding onto Lotor's arm. Eventually though, they come across the aftermath of a rock slide, and there are too many bumps and holes for Lance's stick to find before he sticks his foot in them. Lotor carries him over it, leaping from boulder to boulder like a gazelle or something.

“We will need to stop for the night soon.” Lotor says a few hours later. Lance's stick gets caught on something and it slips out of his fingers.

“Damn it.” He hisses and crouches, fingers searching the ground. There must be about sixteen other sticks though, or maybe they're vines, whatever they are, Lance can't find his stick.

“Here.” Lotor says and presses it into his hand. “It gets cold at night, it wasn't as much of a problem in the cave, but it will be out in the open.”

“How long was I unconscious?” Lance asks, he hadn't considered that before, too distracted by everything else going on.

“A day, perhaps.” Lotor says.

_Shit._ Lance thinks, that means its been almost two days. Where are the others? The Galra are clearly still around, had they driven them off? Had they left him?

He wants to immediately cast the thought away, but its persistent, humming around him like a fly on a hot summer day. They have enough Paladins for all the Lions now, they don't really need him. He's useless anyway, without his sight, why would they bother coming.

They don't know about that though, he tells himself. Its a weak reassurance.

“So do we need to make a fire?” He asks Lotor to distract himself.

“That would be best,” Lotor replies, “But I fear our enemies would find us if we tried.”

“Damn. What if we like, put a branch or something over it,” Lance says, thinking back to the survival shows his mom had loved to watch. “Break up the smoke or whatever.”

Lotor hums, “that would do for during the day, if there are fish in this water, but at night they would be more likely to follow the light of the fire than the smoke.”

“We could-” He doesn't want to be the one to suggest it. He really doesn't want to do it at all, but it would be better if he could at least say it was Lotor's idea.

“What?” Lotor says.

Damn it all. “Body heat.” Lance says.

Lotor is quiet for a long moment. “I suppose that is the only way.” he says.

“Looks like.” Lance replies.

They're both quiet after that, and Lance hate's the quiet, he can hear all things moving and even though he knows its still light out, he can feel the sun on his skin, the constant darkness makes him think its night. “So, I think its your turn.” He says to keep the sounds of rustling leaves away. Who knows what was moving through the foliage.

“Hm? Ah, yes.” Lotor says. He tells a story about a warrior named Scaevola, who apparently stuck his hand into a fire to prove his loyalty to the Galra empire. Lance supposes its meant to be inspiring.

He counters it with the plot of Transformers, because Optimus Prime is a much better role model.

“That is utterly ridiculous.” Lotor tells him.

“So is sticking your hand in a fire.” Lance replies. Lotor doesn't have a comeback for that one.

They walk for another hour after that, until Lotor comes to a stop. Lance keeps going for a couple more steps until he realizes Lotor has stopped.

“I believe this will make a serviceable camp.” Lotor announces.

Lance can hear the water moving beside them, but there's a different tone to it now, something deeper, like there's more now. Is it a river? There is gravel under them, it crunches as Lotor moves. Lance follow him, his stick sweeping out in front of him. He's pretty sure there's an art to doing this, but he has no idea what it is. Mostly he just waves it in the air and hopes that it hits whatever is in front of him before his face does.

“This is gonna be a treat to sleep on.” Lance mutters to himself.

Lotor huffs a laugh, “It will be better than the cave floor.”

Lance crouches down and feels the stones, they're mostly smooth, like those playground rocks back on earth. “True. How deep is the water?” He can still hear it off to his left, he's thirsty, but he can't bring himself to go near it.

“It is deeper than the last place we stopped.” Lotor says, “I think we are getting closer to its source.”

Lotor doesn't say anything, but he guides Lance over to the bank and takes a drink first. Lance holds onto his arm again. Mutually assured destruction. He tells himself. That's all it is.

“The sun is going down.” Lotor says.

“Right.” Lance replies. “How cold does it get again?”

“Cold.”

“Great.” He isn't looking forward to this.

They settle down fairly far apart, given the point of this little exercise is to share body heat. Lance can tell Lotor is still awake from his breathing, he thinks Lotor knows he's still up too.

The stones beneath them are actually fairly warm, having absorbed the heat of the sun all day long. Its a few hours before Lance really starts feeling cold. “Are there stars?” He asks when the sounds of the river and the shifting foliage start getting to him again.

“No.” Lotor says, “there are clouds over the sky.”

“Oh.” Lance shifts his fingers, trying to bury his hands in the lukewarm rocks as quietly as he can. Beneath the surface, the rocks are cold and damp though and he covers the spot back up. He shifts a half inch closer to Lotor.

They're both laying on their backs, even though Lance is really a side sleeper. Sharing body heat is bad enough, he isn't going to be Lotor's little spoon. Or big spoon.

He dozes again, this time he isn't woken so easily by the sounds, at least part of him trusts that Lotor will wake him if there's any danger. Instead he keeps waking up from the cold, or the uncomfortable rocks, or the unpleasant ache in his stomach. The water hadn't really helped fill him up like he'd hoped it might. Instead it seems to have woken his stomach and now he's hungry.

Its a long night.

 


	2. Day Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, you guys get this chapter a day early because we’re going on a road trip tomorrow and I’m going to have to get up way early and I don’t want to be trying to fit uploading in with everything else. I want to say thank you to each and every one of you who has read, followed, favorited, and given kudos to this work, and especially to everyone who has left comments, I love to read your thoughts! Enjoy!

He's lying awake again when Lotor sighs and sits up.

“What's going on?”

“It is close to dawn and we are both sitting here awake.” Lotor says, “we may as well get moving.”

Lance sits up as well, lying on cold rocks all night is not a good way to heal your shoulder, as it turns out, and its even more stiff and painful this morning than it was last night. Great. He searches for his stick, but it seems to have vanished in the night.

“Lotor,” there's a strain in his voice, he needs it, its his only way of 'seeing' in all of this mess.

“On your other side.” Lotor says, and he grabs Lance's wrist and presses the stick into his palm. Tension drains from his shoulders.

“Thanks.”

Lotor hums acknowledgment. “While we have a lead on our pursuers, we should take the opportunity to gather any food we can.”

Lance's stomach rumbles agreement.

Lotor snorts, “stay here, I will see what I can find.” And his footsteps crunch away until they rustle into plants. Lance stands on the shore like an idiot, clutching his stick close and trying not to feel like a child who lost their mother in a grocery store.

“I  _ am _ a concussed duckling.” he realizes. “Fuck.” He wants to do something, to show Lotor and himself, that he's not entirely useless, but he is. He can't go looking for plants, he can't hunt, all he can do is stand here on the shore and hope Lotor finds him before the Galra do because its not like he can do anything about it if they do.

Tears burn at his eyes an Lance scrubs them away. “No, damn it, there has to be something.” When they were little, his sisters used to play fairy princesses, and he was their prince. They'd have crowns of flowers, but he had braided himself a circlet of grass. If he remembers correctly, they'd been fairly sturdy, if he could make a longer one, then they could...what? What possible use could there be for a rope made of  _ grass _ ? He doesn't even know if there's grass on this planet.

Lance sits down on the shore and hopes Lotor comes back before the Galra find him.

Maybe thirty minutes later, he can hear footsteps coming towards him through the forest. There isn't the whirr of sentries, but it could be a Galra foot soldier. Lance climbs to his feet as quickly as he dares, he should hide. He needs to hide, but where, he has no idea if there's any cover near him, as far as he knows, the shore is flat and open all around him.

“Fuck. _ ”  _ he mutters. “Lotor?”

“Its me.”

Lance feels the tension drain out of him. “Did you find anything?” He asks instead of throwing himself into Lotor's arms and sobbing like he wants to.

“A few things, these need peeled though and I thought I would make sure all was well.”

“Just peachy.” Lance says.

He sits back down on the shore and he hears the shift of Lotor's weight as he crouches down in front of him. The gravel shifts and Lotor stands back up. “Use this to break the skin, I will return shortly.”

Lance reaches up and Lotor presses a rock into his palm. Lance reaches out and feels a hard/smooth oval shape on the ground in front of him. Its roughly four times the size of a chicken egg back on earth and much heavier. Lance carefully taps the rock against it, it doesn't sound hollow so he smacks it a bit harder.

Lotor's footsteps retreat up the beach again, leaving Lance alone with his weird egg fruits. Lance bangs the rock on it again, then feels the surface of the fruit, there isn't even a dent. Great.

He's hit his fingers about six times when Lotor gets back, but he's managed to open up the first fruit enough that they should be able to dig out something to eat.

“We should leave soon.” Lotor says.

“Right.” Lance agrees, and they both finish of the opened fruit. Lotor cuts the rest of the sleeve off of Lance's armor and ties the end to store the rest and they're on their way.

“Its your turn again.” Lance says, swishing the stick in front of him. It mostly works, but occasionally he'll miss something and trip. His hand stays on Lotor's arm just in case.

“So it is.” Lotor says, then hums in consideration. “The tale of Alba is entertaining enough. She was the wife of Galus, she ran the empire while her husband was out conquering.”

The river is getting louder, Lance notices, slowly rising from a murmur, to a rush, and now it is getting nearer to a roar. “Is the river getting wider?” Lance asks.

“And faster.” Lotor agrees. “I think we are nearing its end.”

Lance isn't sure that's a good thing. They've kept with it because it is an easy source of water, and also allowed them to keep moving so the Galra can't catch up. If the river ends, they'll have no choice but to abandon it, and who knows how they'd find water then?

They walk in silence after that, the river is getting loud enough that they would have to shout to be heard. The ground slopes sharply downward, and Lotor carries him again. When the ground starts to level out, the roar of the river quiets.

“Must have been the rapids.” Lance says.

“I suppose.” Lotor agrees. “Its your turn.”

Lance tells him Star Wars. Of course he tells him Star Wars. Not for the first time, he wishes he could just fucking  _ see _ so that he could remember the look on Lotor's face when he says: “And then Vader says: 'Luke  _ I  _ am your father'”

“What?!” Lotor snaps. “That makes  _ no _ sense.”

“Sure it does,” Lance counters, “y'see when a male human and a female human-

“I will drop you.” Lotor says.

Lance laughs his way through the rest of the story.

Steadily, their footsteps stop crunching on stones and there is sand beneath Lance's feet. He bends down to touch it just to be sure. Lotor tugs him up quickly.

“We cannot afford to linger here.” He says, tension in his voice. “This sand will make us easy to track.”

Lance hadn't even considered that. They move faster.

“What time is it?” Lance asks when it starts to get cooler. He hopes its getting on towards night, he's tired and he hasn't done as much walking as Lotor.

“Nearly evening.” Lotor says, “do you need to stop?”

“No,” Lance says, because he's already enough of a burden.

“Don't lie.” Lotor says.

“We need to keep going.” Lance says, trying to at least glare in Lotor's general direction. “You said it yourself, this sand is a neon sign to the Galra.”

“Let me worry about that.” Lotor says, his voice just as stubborn.

Lance growls, but its not like he can actually do anything to stop Lotor at this point.

“The river is ending.” Lotor says after a few minutes of silence, “it looks like it flows into a lake, unless that is an island. We should make camp in the treeline.”

Lotor leaves him sitting at the edge of the beach and goes deeper into the woods to try and make them a shelter. Lance's fingers squeeze through the sand at his feet, trying not to feel like a child.

Space sand is different from earth sand, for one, even wet, earth sand is pretty crumbly, but space sand stays together much better. He squeezes a handful, the texture is almost...familiar. He freezes. “No.” he whispers, a smile tugging at his lips. But yes, because he knows what this sand feels like. “Its fucking Moon Sand.” He says, then collapses into giggles.

“What are you laughing about?” Lotor asks, somewhat testily, but Lance can't bring himself to care.

“Are we on a moon?” He asks.

“What? Why?” Lotor's voice is incredulous now.

“I need to know.”

He can almost feel Lotor's baffled stare. “...yes, this is a moon. Why does it matter?”

“Oh there is a god.” Lance says, “and he's got a wicked fucking sense of humor.”

Then he hums the Moon Sand jingle, because now its stuck in his head.

_ Moon Sand, Moon Sand, the sand that molds like dough _

“Are you...well?” Lotor asks, like he's debating restraining Lance for his own safety.

“I've rarely been better.” Lance says, because this situation could be vastly improved if he could actually see the Moon Sand on the moon. “Have we got shelter, then?”

“Yes.” Lotor says, “and just in time too, it looks like it is going to rain.”

“Great.” Lance says. “At least it held off until now.”

“Indeed.”

The shelter is small, which Lance supposes is a good thing, because it got cold enough last night when they had some warm rocks to sleep on and tonight its going to be raining. At the same time, the shelter is small.

Selfishly, he crawls in first, because he doesn't think he can take another night of trying to sleep out in the open when he has no idea what might be watching him. In the grand scheme of things, a wall of branches and sticks on an improvised lean-to, from what he can feel, isn't going to stop even a determined insect, but it still makes him feel better.

Lotor crawls in behind him, and it makes the shelter seem even smaller. Lance swallows and doesn't say anything. They lay side by side in the dark again, both of them still awake, no matter how tired they are.

“Do you think-” Lotor begins, then stops.

Lance pays attention because Lotor almost sounds  _ hesitant _ , and he's got to be making that up because he doesn't think Lotor has second guessed himself in his entire life. “hm?” He prompts, when Lotor doesn't say anything more.

“You were humming earlier.” Lotor says, “it was...pleasant.”

“Do Galra not sing?” Lance asks.

“Very rarely.” Lotor says, “It is not an art we are suited to.”

Lance tries to imagine  _ Zarkon _ trying to carry a tune and almost laughs loud enough to bring the bastard down on them. “Humans sing all the time.” He says, “I worked at this company once, before anything to do with space, and it was too noisy to have a radio in there, so everyone sang their own songs. You'd go past one guy singing a Disney song, and then another girl rockin' out to ACDC. It was great.”

“You play songs over your communication channels?” Lotor asks like that's the most confusing thing in space.

“The majority of stuff on our radios is music.” Lance says, “there's some talk shows and stuff, but usually its music. There are other channels for communication though, like phones and stuff.”

He hadn't really considered it before, but there wasn't any music in the castle either, all of the paladins had taken up humming and singing. Pidge and Hunk sometimes did mumble duets while they worked on things. Now that he thought about it, Allura and Coran had never interrupted when they hummed or sang. He wonders what significance singing has in Altean culture. If he ever gets back he'll have to ask.

When. When he gets back.

He hums a song for Lotor though, because now he's thinking about it.

“That was beautiful.” Lotor says in the darkness.

“I'll teach you the words some time.” Lance offers.

“Words?”

“Yeah, do Galra not put words in their songs?”

“No, humans do?”

“A lot of it, yeah, sometimes its just instruments though, or vocals without words.”

“I would enjoy learning the words to your songs.” Lotor says quietly. He sounds tired now, and Lance is drifting off himself.

“Tomorrow.” He murmurs, and the world fades away.


	3. Day Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, final chapter, at last. I wanted to say thank you to everyone who has interacted with this fic in any way, reading, favoriting, following, and especially leaving comments, I've been overwhelmed with the love and support you guys have laid on this fic and I appreciate every single one of you! I hope you enjoy!

**DAY THREE**

 

_ “Lance!” Hunk calls, and Lance feels a smile stretch his face. _

_ “Hunk! I'm over here!” He waves his arms over his head, trying to get his attention. _

_ “Lance!” Pidge's voice comes from behind him. _

_ “I'm here!” He calls back, turning to her.  _

_ “Lance!” Its Keith now, “Lance where are you?” _

_ “I'm right here!” He shouts, he tries to walk towards the sound, but he doesn't actually think he's moving. _

_ “Lance, answer us!” Shiro orders. “Where are you?” _

_ “I'm here!” _

_ “Lance! C'mon buddy, where are you?” Hunk's voice is farther away now. _

_ “No, I'm over here guys!” Lance says. _

_ “They know where you are.” A voice says, “They just don't want to find you.” He turns around and its Lotor standing there. “I told them about how useless you are, they don't want you back.” _

“Paladin, wake up!” Large hands shake his shoulders and Lance reflexively kicks, trying to hit whoever has a hold of him.

“Calm down.” Lotor says, “its only me.”

Lance is still breathing hard, but he stops trying to fight. There's sweat on his forehead, and his heart is going too fast. “I'm alright.” he says, and Lotor lets him go. He swallows and tries to figure out just what the hell is wrong with him, nothing overtly terrifying had happened in the dream. No flashing lasers, no Zarkon standing before him.

“Are you well, Paladin?”

“Its Lance, and I'm fine. What time is it?” Lance asks.

Lotor pauses before answering, like he's debating pursuing the issue, but he lets it lie. “Lance. Its almost dawn, I think.”

“Lets get moving.” Lance nudges at Lotor, trying to get him to move out of the way. “I want to get  _ clean _ this morning.”

Lotor moves much faster after that.

“Not exactly a daisy yourself.” Lance mutters at him.

Lotor sniffs disdainfully, and they walk to the lakeshore in silence. Lance hesitates at the shore, somehow, he'd forgotten to consider that they would have to bathe  _ together _ . Which is ridiculous, because its not like there's stalls out here, hell, there aren't stalls in the castle. There hadn't been stalls in the garrison either, now that he thinks about it. What is with space and lack of privacy?

He tells himself to get over it, its not like he's going to accidentally catch an eyeful. He turns his back though, because he doesn't want Lotor to get an eyeful either. No matter what the rest of space thinks, some things are sacred.

He wades out until the waves are lapping at his belly button and stops. He can hear Lotor going farther out, but he doesn't want to leave the bottom. The water is cold, not enough to make his teeth chatter, but its going to be a quick bath.

Its awkward, hearing the water splashing from both of them washing and neither of them saying anything. He tries to decide if talking will make it even worse when Lotor says: “You said you would teach me the words of your songs today.” As though Lance has forgotten.

A smile tugs at his lips. “I did, in fact, its a time honored tradition to sing while you bathe”

“You sing while you work, you sing while you bathe, when do you not sing?” Lotor asks.

“When we're talking.” Lance says, “though, depending on how you think about it, rap is pretty much talking to a tune, so that may or may not count.”

He tries to think up a simple song that he knows all the words to. “Here's one I learned in music class forever ago, its pretty easy so you should be able to pick it up:

“ _ White coral bells, upon a silver stalk _

_ Lillys of the valley deck my garden walk _

_ Oh don't you wish that you could hear them ring _

_ That will only happen when the fairies sing.” _

“Music  _ class?”  _ Lotor asks. “You learn to sing?”

“We learn to sing, we sing to learn, we're a sing-y bunch. Aren't there other cultures that sing?”

“Not that much.” Lotor says. “How do you learn by singing?”

“Its how I learned the alphabet.” Lance says, “that's probably one of the first songs you learn. But I sang for you, and I taught you the words, now you've got to sing for me.” He gestures in Lotor's direction. “The stage is yours.”

“Tell me the words again.” Lotor says.

Lance sings the song again, even though he's pretty sure Lotor is stalling. “C'mon, you can't be that bad, your voice isn't that gravelly.”

By unspoken agreement, they both wade to shore at about the same time, water splashing around their legs. About halfway back, he thinks, Lance slips on a slimy rock and starts going down.

Lotor grabs him by the arm before he can do more than gasp and steadies him. “Thanks.” Lance says, the thought of falling into the water and not being able to find the surface again flashing behind his eyelids. Lotor keeps his hand on Lance's arm. It should be ten million times more awkward than bathing three feet away from each other, but Lance doesn't ask him to let go.

Lotor guides him over to Lance's armor pile and then goes back to his own. “I haven't forgotten.” Lance says while Lotor is buckling a strap for him. “I sang for you, and I gave you the words twice.”

Lotor sighs, but he sings the song back to Lance. His voice is so quiet that Lance can barely hear him over the waves, but he still does it, so Lance decides not to tease him about it.

“That wasn't so bad, now was it.” Okay, he'll tease him a little bit, he's only  _ human _ .

“What are fairies?” Lotor asks, “and lillies for that matter.”

“Oh, well, fairies are a sort of mythical creature.” Lance says, Lotor seems to be leading them around the lake shore. Lance isn't sure if there's a real goal, or if they're just moving for the sake of keeping ahead of the Galra. “They're tiny little human-like creatures that are about five or six inches tall, nowadays, they're usually nature spirits. Lillies are a type of flower that I guess fairies hang around? They're shaped like bells, so that's the association.”

“Your songs are not literal then? They have no greater meanings?” Lotor asks.

“Well, there's hymns and stuff, and sometimes artists have a message, but a lot of music is about emotions.” Lance said. “There's tons of songs about love, about falling in love, out of love, coming together, breaking up. If its an emotion, someone's made a song for it.”

“Fascinating.” Lotor says.

“You're really into this stuff, huh?” Lance says.

“It is something of a hobby.” Lotor says, “I could not engage in it often.”

They both fall silent after that, because its the closest either of them has come to mentioning the war since the cave. Lance suddenly remembers that this is  _ Lotor _ , like somehow he's forgotten that he's palling around with the son of his greatest enemy.

He suddenly finds himself remembering a line from a paper he'd had to do in second grade:

_ “Do I not destroy my enemies when I make them my friends?” _

He thinks Abraham Lincoln said it, but it might have been Martin Luther King. They'd written a lot of papers in second grade.

“So,” he says, even though the silence has gone on too long, “I sang you a song, cough up a story.”

Tension in Lotor's arm that he hadn't even noticed drains away. “I believe I sang a song as well.”

“That was my song.” Lance counters, “It doesn't count.”

Lotor laughs, quiet and low, but its still a laugh. He doesn't think he's heard Lotor laugh before. Lance opens his mouth, he isn't quite sure what he's going to say, and the words never leave his lips.

“There they are!”

It isn't Shiro's voice that rings out across the lake, or Hunk's, or Pidge's. Its undeniably a Galra voice.

“filius canis” Lotor curses, and he swings Lance into his arms and he  _ runs. _

Lance can hear the blasters sounding off behind them, at one point he thinks he feels the heat of a blast against his arm. Lotor doesn't hesitate, he weaves through the foliage. The sounds of pursuit fade a bit, but they're still too close for comfort when Lotor stops.

“What are you doing?” Lance asks.

“Stay here.” Lotor says, “I can lead them off, but not while you're weighing me down.” He sets Lance's feet on the ground, but Lance grabs his arm.

“That's not the deal.” he says, because at some point, when he stopped paying attention, this stopped being about mutually assured destruction and it became mutually assured  _ survival _ . “If they're getting you, they're getting me.”

“You're insane.” Lotor says.

“So are you if you think I'm going to let you sacrifice yourself for me.” Lance snaps, because he knows the chances of Lotor escaping the net the Galra have cast around them. Even if this is the only patrol nearby, they'll have called in reinforcements and the lake is going to be surrounded in less than an hour.

Lotor is quiet, hesitating and Lance grips his arm even tighter. He can't see Lotor's face, but he tries to meet his eyes.

“Fine.” Lotor snaps and he scoops Lance back up.

They run, leaves rustle, and Lotor's footsteps crunch through the undergrowth. Its not enough, it was never going to be enough. They're cornered in a clearing about a mile from the lake shore if Lance's estimate is right.

They trip Lotor somehow, and Lance is flung into the air. Instinct and training take over and he rolls up, his stick clenched tightly in his fist. He hears Lotor growl and the sound of something hissing into life. Gun? Cuffs? No way to tell.

“Well, well, well.” the commander says, at least Lance thinks its the commander, it might be a sentry drone for all he knows. “The traitor  _ and _ a paladin, looks like I'll be moving up in the world.”

His footsteps crunch closer and Lance swings the stick with everything he's got. It whistles through the air harmlessly. He takes a step forwards and tries again.

“What is this?” The commander asks. “Fight me, boy.”

Lance widens his stance, listening hard for the sound of the commander's footsteps. Something rustles to his right and he twists, trying to figure out how the commander got over there so quickly.

“No!” Lotor shouts, but its too late, the commander's fist slams into his jaw and sends him to the ground. Lance's stick falls out of his fingers and he just barely manages to catch himself before he eats dirt. He feels frantically for the stick, but all he can feel is leaves.

The commander laughs and kicks him in the stomach. Lance lands on his back, trying to catch his breath, his fingers twitch, still looking for his stick, even though he knows its useless now. The commander has already figured it out. He probably threw a rock or something and Lance fell for it hook line and sinker.

The commander's giant hand engulfs his chin, hoisting him up to his knees. He can feel the warm breath on his cheek, smell the stench of it. He knows the commander is looking at his eyes and he tries to focus on his face.

“Pathetic.” The commander sneers. “After everything I'd heard about the Paladins of Voltron I was almost looking forward to facing a worthy opponent, just my luck to get the defective one.”

Lance's lip curls and he spits in the commander's face. He doesn't have any clever words now, no tricks up his sleeve, just him and an enemy he can't even see. The commander slams him into the dirt, then steps away.

“Come then, Paladin, I'll give you a free shot.” His footsteps crunch a short distance away and he can almost imagine the guy holding his arms out. He almost laughs, he's seen this scenario too many times back on the playground, the bully spreading his arms and sticking his chin out.

_ I won't even move, c'mon, give me your best shot. _

He'd know it was a taunt back then too, but he still hadn't been able to resist. He balls his hand into a fist and lunges for the commander. A heavy blow catches him on the back of the neck and he's down again. He pulls himself to his hands and knees.

“Surely this isn't the best a Paladin can offer, come, boy, give me a real fight.” The commander is laughing, he knows that Lance won't beat him, he knows that Lance is as good as captured, as good as dead, but he can't resist playing with his food.

Lance lunges again, this time the galra kicks him hard in the chest, enough to send him back a few feet. He feels his ribs creak with the force of the blow, and he thinks one cracks, from the way breathing is suddenly a lot more painful.

“Stop this.” Lotor snarls, “if it is combat you desire, face me.”

Another blow falls, but Lance doesn't feel it.

“You will be silent, traitor.” The commander snarls. “This is between the Paladin and I. Boy, if you manage to hit me  _ once _ I will release you.”

Lance knows this is just part of the game, he knows how this plays out, but he still gets up. That's what being a Paladin is, he thinks, its knowing that your situation is hopeless, knowing that you're going to get beat into the dirt but getting up anyway. The thing that makes it different from the days back on the playground is that he knows that even if he gets beaten to a pulp, at least he's getting beaten next to his four closest friends.

_ Only you're not, you're alone. They're not coming for you. You should just give up. _

Lance grits his teeth and stumbles to his feet. The commander laughs.

“Come on then.”

He lurches in what he thinks is the right direction, but the world is spinning and maybe he hit his head a little harder than he thought. The commander doesn't even have to hit him this time, he trips and falls all on his own.

Footsteps crunch over to him and he hears the whine of a blaster charging. “Stay down,” the commander says, “at some point this gets too pathetic even for me.”

_ Stay down, Mclain, if you know what's good for you. _

Lance gets his arms under himself and tries to lever his body up. He hadn't been too good at staying down back then either. The commander plants a boot on his back, he doesn't even have to push, just the weight of it is enough to send Lance back to the ground.

The cool barrel of the blaster presses against the back of his head. “Stay down.” The commander says.

“Leave him!” Lotor commands, there's something desperate in his voice. Lance doesn't think he's ever heard that tone from Lotor either. First hesitating, then laughing, now this, its like they're on one of those bonding retreats. A smile twitches at his lips.

The commander nudges him onto his back with a boot, “I knew you were a traitor, Lotor, but really? Shameful that the son of the emperor could fall so far. Ah well, my gain, I suppose. Your father really is looking forward to seeing you again.”

Lotor growls, low and furious. “Are you so much of a coward that you would rather taunt a blind foe than face me in combat?”

The commander ignores him. “Unfortunately for you, Paladin, the emperor doesn't care about seeing you. You can die here, on this planet. Pathetic and alone, just the way you started, I would assume.” The blaster whines with charge.

Lance wants to close his eyes, even though it won't really make a difference, but he makes himself stare in the direction of the commander's voice, he hopes he's meeting his eyes, but he doesn't really have much hope of that.

“Face me!” Lotor snarls.

His snarl is drowned out by the most beautiful sound Lance has ever heard. The roar of an infuriated Lion. The heat of the blaster barrel is suddenly gone and a smile curls his lips. Even though it hurts, he makes himself grind out: “That's the problem with you playground bullies, you never consider what happens when the teacher shows up.” A high, rusty cackle crawls out of his throat, “And you're about to get  _ schooled! _ ”

The commander snarls, and something hits the side of Lance's head. The world is lost in the roar of the Lion and the scream of blaster fire.

  
  


“Easy buddy.” Hunk says. The lights are blindingly bright and Lance holds up an arm to ward them off.

“Hunk?” He murmurs.

“I'm here,” Hunk says, “We're all here.”

They are, he realizes, there are hands on his arms, his shoulders, touching him, making sure he's real, making sure he's okay. “You came.” He says.

“We will always come.” Allura says, and she wraps him in one of her Altean hugs that manages to be both gentle and bone crushingly strong.

Lance hugs her back she's watching him with her bright eyes, scanning his face for any hint that he isn't 100% okay. Then it hits him. He can  _ see _ her. His hands tremble when they touch the skin of his eyelids and his vision blurs with tears. That's okay though, because he can see through them.  _ He can see _ .

Allura takes his hands in hers. “You should be able to see just as well as you did before. Your vision would have come back on its own, given time, but an extra few hours in the pod never hurt anyone.”

He hugs her again, and everyone piles in.

No, he realizes, not everyone.

“Where's Lotor?” He asks, and the smiles fade.

“Downstairs.” Shiro says. “He said that he helped you but we weren't taking any chances.”

“He did.” Lance breathes, “Shiro you don't understand I would have  _ died _ without him. Let him out.”

“You trust him?” Hunk asks, looking like he thinks a few more hours in the pod might be for the best.

“With my life.” Lance replies.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I know Lance's line at the end of the fight was kind of cheesy, but its Lance, and he has a head injury, cut him some slack, lol.   
> Once again, thank you for reading!


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